


Survivor

by lacecat (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Drug Use, Gen, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, Sexual Tension, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2012-10-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:13:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel didn't want the tattoo at first. But Dean didn't take no for an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

It was Chuck at first who suggested that Castiel should get a tattoo. A black anti-possesion signal, carved into his skin.

"C'mon man! Do you seriously want to get your ass ridden by some demon?" The man said. "Everyone's just bitten the bullet and gotten one, except for you."

He had been standing at the edge of Castiel's bed, looking at the empty bottles and bags of illicit substances thrown around on the hardwood floor. 

Castiel blew dark hair out of his eyes and watched his fingers, shaking slightly, which he held up to his eyes. Chuck gave a derisive snort. "And for a moment, I thought when I walked in here, you wouldn't be high, man."

The words stung Castiel; a feeling he rarely felt anymore. Drugs were like a plaster on his skin, thickening it so any barbs wouldn't go deep. But he stayed silent. 

Chuck sighed. "Fine. But don't blame me when Dean bites your ass for this."

Castiel idly thought for a second that he wouldn't mind Dean biting his ass. One bit. 

\----

The second time someone had suggested Castiel should get a tattoo, it was in much different context, and said person was riding Castiel. And not about the tattoo. 

It had been a faceless human being- a woman, a man, Castiel didn't even know anymore. In the middle of their moaning, they had flattened their palm on Castiel's chest- "You would be so hot with a tattoo, like, right there," they had breathed, a heavy noise that irked Castiel for some reason. Castiel pushed their hand away and grabbed their hips, thrusting his own up harder. More hands reached around him, pulling and teasing his already hot skin, and beaded necklaces clung to sweaty skin.

The rest of that encounter had vanished entirely as a memory, in a cloud of pills and smoke. He didn't even remember who it was. 

That was the only thing they said to them, though- that's what Castiel remembered. 

\----

Risa was the third to inquire.

It had been after a particularly brutal supplies run. They had been overrun by Croates, and many of their men had died. In the midst of the gunfire, Castiel briefly watched Dean, glorious even broken, take out one of the Croates with a single bullet. There were more spatters of blood on his face than freckles, and Castiel noted that Dean's eyes were dull, even as he killed figures that had the faces of people he knew and loved, as friends were ripped to pieces in a bloody massacre. 

Castiel had been injured in friendly fire- a bullet through the shoulder. He had long given up on his angelic grace ever healing him again, and so Risa was tasked with extracting the bullet and sewing him up. Castiel stared at the small metal object, wondering how something that was so small could be so deadly.

Risa coughed, watching as Castiel sat up from the makeshift operating table and slide on a shirt. "I noticed you don't have a tattoo."

Castiel reached down to start to slip on his boots. "I don't have a mother to pay homage to on my arm," he snarked. 

She had looked at him with dark eyes, too deep for her own good. "You know what I mean, Castiel, a sigil. I don't know if your angelic plan covers demonic possession, but just in case, just to be careful-"

Castiel gave a bitter laugh to that. "Right. Because I'm always careful." 

"Then to it for Dean," She said, pleading. "He cares about his angel."

He didn't meet her eyes, standing up. "I'm not an angel, Risa." 

He then walked out the door.

\----

The fourth was Bobby, who caught Castiel's arm as he walked out from a camp meeting. "Castiel," the older man said.

Castiel raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Singer grumbled for a second. "Now, I know your sorry ass's schedule must be filled up with killing yourself with booze and women, but when are you going to take your head out of your ass and get yourself an anti-possession tattoo?"

Castiel shifted his weight from one leg to another. "I know. Chuck and Risa haven't exactly been subtle either. Not you too," he muttered.

Bobby gave a weary sigh. "You can bring a horse to the water, but you can't force it to drink. Fine, boy. Just don't come crying to me."

\----

Dean was the fifth to ask, and by 'asking', he pinned Castiel to the doorframe of his room one evening, making it a rather rhetorical question. 

"Cas, I'm giving you the damn tattoo myself, God help me." Dean growled, his voice gravelly as always.

Castiel met his green eyes coolly, matching his scowl with a smirk. "I doubt God is a licensed tattoo artist, Dean." 

That had earned him a smack in the head, and Dean proceeded to drag Castiel to the shadowy corners of Dean's abode. "You sit down on that chair. You're lucky I still have this shit with me." 

The fallen angel made an amused noise and slumped in his chair, feet up on the table. The Winchester shot him a dirty look. "Do you even know how to use it?"

Dean frowned. "I do. I couldn't exactly give some sissy tattoo artist a sigil, could I? They'd think I'm a fucking Satanist or something." 

Castiel gave a low laugh. "The irony is pretty overwhelming."

Instead of replying, Dean pushed an unopened alcohol wipe in his hands. "Wipe your chest with this."  
He hesitated. "You on anything right now?"

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately for both of us, no. What, you worried I'll bleed out on you?" 

The other man gave another frown, an expression all too common on him. "Just do it, for christ's sake." Castiel watched for a second as Dean poured ink into the tiny ink caps before taking off his shirt and tearing open the aluminum packet with his teeth, swabbing the wipe all over. 

"I don't suppose you'll do mine in magenta, now?" He wondered out loud. Dean gave a wry smile. "I forgot you have a sense of humor." His tone caused Castiel to quiet, to remember the old days of Dean and Cas and Bobby and Sam-

Sam. Castiel shifted his eyes down to the ground. No one dared to bring up the younger Winchester. Dean was a ruthless leader in the camp; he would easily kill a man or woman for mentioning his brother now. They were at war, and all survivors are broken in their own way.

The older Winchester cleared his throat and turned back, tattoo machine now working and ready. "Come on, sit up already," Dean said gruffly, toeing Castiel's shirt away as it laid discarded on the ground. 

Castiel stretched his long torso and watched as Dean's eyes couldn't help but follow the pale lines of his chest and stomach. "You going to ink me like one of your women?" He joked, but it fell flat. 

The other man flexed his hands before picking up the needle. "Can't have you being possessed and all. And don't tell me it isn't entirely unpossible either, Cas. Your mojo is practically drained, isn't it?" Dean said, probably harsher than he intended. 

Castiel put his arms on the armrests of his chair. "Can't blame me trying. Your lackeys were all over me trying to get me inked before, you know," he mentioned. 

Dean grinned. "Let me guess, Chuck? Perhaps Risa?" He was much closer to Castiel now, and the ex-angel could feel the heat radiating off his body. 

He smirked. "Both. And not to mention- _fuck!_

" he exclaimed, sharp pain radiating through his chest. 

Dean looked up, obviously having already started tattooing Castiel's chest. "You were saying?" 

"You could have warned me," Castiel said, his tone sounding sulky. 

Dean gave a quick laugh. "You can take it." 

Castiel gave a small hiss of pain, but watched as Dean continued his work, tracing the outline of the sigil on his breast bone. The green eyed man was hunched over Castiel's body, his breath fanning over his bare skin, and Castiel watched those almost feminine lips purse as Dean carefully inked. 

Castiel shifted his legs in the chair, conscious of how close he was to Dean, and noted the small wrinkles between his eyes. Dean was far too young to have wrinkles, but then again, Castiel was older than the first homo sapiens and he barely had crow's feet. The other man looked tired, his face unshaven for several days, and faint scars lined his arms, but as Castiel looked at his strong jaw, sharp nose and careful hands, he realized that Dean never seemed so beautiful before. Those wrinkles were a testament to nights spent worrying about people Dean cared about- and proof that he was truly the Righteous Man, no matter how much blood he tried to drown himself in. 

Dean looked up suddenly, meeting Castiel's gaze. "What now?" 

Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. The air grew heavy and thick around them; blue eyes pierced green eyes. Dean's hand, so innocently placed on Castiel's chest for support, tightened slightly, and Castiel couldn't help but to arch his body into Dean's touch, as Dean's lips parted and his eyes darkened-

Then Dean ducked his head, looking up at Castiel through honey lashes. "I need to finish this, Cas," he breathed, all too aware of the atmosphere around them.

Castiel didn't even have to nod, just continued to stare at Dean. He couldn't even feel the bites of the tattooing needle as Dean finished, just a coil in his stomach that built as Dean's hand brushed over his chest absentmindedly, sparks coming from where their skin made contact. Dean's head was dipped down so far that each hot breath on Castiel's neck made the dark-haired man shiver and bite his lip. Time dragged on as Dean changed needles and began to shade in the sigil, agonizingly slow. Castiel's hand came up and touched Dean's neck, causing the Winchester to hiss slightly even as he continued to ink in Castiel's tattoo. 

Finding the place on Dean's upper arm where his handprint used to be, Castiel squeezed lightly, and at that, Dean gave a low moan, his head snapping up. Castiel saw his dilated pupils and smirked. 

_Finally_ setting the tattoo machine down on the table, Dean turned around to face Castiel. "Ok, what is-" But he was cut off by Castiel's lips on his own. 

Castiel kissed with a certain ferocity that was the only tangible proof that he was ever a powerful angel, warrior of God. He bit down on Dean's lower lip, drawing blood, and Dean gave a full-body shudder, moaning, and Castiel pinned him against the table, his whole body lined up against Dean's. The older Winchester grabbed Castiel's hips, undoubtably leaving bruises for the next morning, and licked his way into Castiel's mouth again, his hot tongue working against the roof of Castiel's mouth. The ex-angel gave a throaty moan as he grabbed Dean's ass, grinding and pushing- 

Dean's chest grazed into the new tattoo, and Castiel gave another moan, the hot pain melting into pleasure, and as they broke apart, Dean's lips began to suck on Castiel's neck, leaving dark marks that were so wrong but perfect in a twisted way, and when Castiel put his hands under Dean's thighs and lifted him onto the table, Dean didn't argue, and wrapped his legs around Castiel's back, his perfect lips ruined, opened in an obscene way as he panted and moaned, and as Castiel worshipped Dean's body with his own mouth, feeling every inch of perfect skin, every bump and freckle, and maybe if it was all a blur after that, nobody cared. If Dean walked out of his room with a slight limp the next morning, with only Castiel, dark and smirking, watching every wince and pull of his shirt in a vain attempt to hide the marks, nobody cared. And if Castiel didn't say anything about his new tattoo to anyone, and how he spent many more nights sharing their leader's bed with him, nobody cared. 

_Because they were all survivors, and they were all broken in some way._


End file.
